


i want you to mean it

by Woahsos



Category: All Time Low (Band)
Genre: "fight scene" really, Angst, First Kiss, Flashbacks, Kinda, M/M, Mentions of alcohol, Rated teen for language, Self-Destructive Behavior, Songfic, alex is an asshole in this, but there is a happy/hopeful ending, guess which song.......guess, i hesitate to call this hurt/comfort, like...fairly heavy angst, oh there's like a small fight scene but like?? nothing extreme or graphic its mostly verbal, rian's such a good friend in this, time jumps is more like it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-29
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-14 21:34:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29052939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Woahsos/pseuds/Woahsos
Summary: Jack feels stuck to the seat, whole body going numb with the sudden emptiness inside him, inside the car that was so occupied and full a minute ago. And it’s his own fault for falling for it. He should’ve known better than to believe Alex wanted the same things he wanted or that the sly glances and closeness from the past few weeks were anything more than a way to work Jack up. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew better.orthe jasey rae fic nobody asked for
Relationships: Jack Barakat/Alex Gaskarth
Comments: 10
Kudos: 9





	i want you to mean it

**Author's Note:**

> huge huge shoutout to [meghna](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunsetmagnolia) without whom this fic would genuinely not exist. she listened to me shout and helped me work out so many things, or just let me talk at her while i figured them out on my own. she was constantly excited and encouraging and this fic is really just dedicated to her at this point. meghna i love you sososo much i love talking about fic with you, you make the writing process so much more fun. everyone go read everything meghna's ever written because she is so beautiful and talented.
> 
> anyways, this fic has genuinely been so fun to write and im very excited to share it so here we go okay? okay

It’s fucking freezing in the back of this van, and the rain is pounding against the windows, and Jack feels like he’s in a scene from book they’d discuss at school where the storm outside represents the storm inside his chest.

Shivers tear their way through his body, no matter how much he curls in on himself, clutching at his arms so tightly it’s bound to leave marks. His eyes are shut tightly as if that’ll somehow shut out the cold. Or maybe he’s just holding back tears.The floor feels like ice against the side of his face, and it’s seeping through his clothes and settling into his bones. His fault, he supposes, for just wearing a t-shirt. 

He curls in tighter when someone opens the back door of the van, stepping inside and shutting it just as quickly. Dread builds in his stomach at the thought of someone, a certain someone, seeing him like this, and he refuses to lift his head off the floor. 

But there’s a pair of worn out gym shoes stopped in front of him, so he looks up to meet Rian’s concerned gaze. He sits down, pulling Jack into his lap and resting his arms over him. Jack’s immensely grateful for the body heat, though he’s already uncomfortable at what’s to come.

“What’s going on?” Rian asks, barely loud enough over the thunderous rain. And actual thunder. 

Jack just presses his face into Rian’s stomach, avoiding the question; Rian lets him. For now, at least. He just runs his hand through Jack’s hair, a little awkwardly, but it’s still a nice gesture. So nice, in fact, that Jack might cry. Again.

He’s been on the verge of tears the whole night, slowly building, crushing down on his chest; he’s surprised at how long he’s held off. But Rian starts rubbing down his arms and it all comes spilling out. He chokes on ugly sobs and clutches at Rian’s arms and desperately tries to make himself as small as possible, to disappear or melt into the floor or whatever else would take him away from the heartache ripping it’s way through his entire body.

Rian’s a good friend about it; he just holds Jack and wipes away some of his tears, ignores his phone when it starts ringing, shuts it off when it rings again. 

The minutes go by, and Jack starts to feel like maybe he’ll never calm down. Every time he starts to, another memory works its way to the front of his mind and another sob works its way out of him. His throat is hoarse and he can’t entirely breathe through his nose by the time he’s finally run out of tears. 

“Alex says you just left,” Rian whispers. Jack’s breath hitches, but Rian either doesn’t notice or is too nice to comment on it. “He’s been looking for you.”

_______________

Jack didn’t have any plans for his night, other than staying in and playing video games, maybe ordering a pizza for himself. It’s a perfect plan in his mind, and he’s actually pretty excited for it. He hasn’t had a night alone in what feels like weeks.

So, he’s in a bit more of a rush than normal to get packed up after band practice, putting his guitar away much more carelessly than he normally would. Nobody really notices, too caught up in their own conversations, and he’s hoping to slip out the door with a quick farewell and make it home without a hitch.

But then Alex is stopping in front of him and asking, “Hey, can you come help me with something?” and dragging him up the stairs before he’s had the chance to even register the question.

He stops them in the kitchen and presses Jack back against a counter, loose enough that Jack could push him away if he wanted to. They both know he won’t. He leans in close and smiles, a shark’s smile, devouring Jack’s bleeding heart, looking down at Jack’s lips before meeting his eyes again. Jack knows it’s not going anywhere, because it never does, but his heart still leaps and he has to suppress a shiver from the thrill of it. Alex trails a finger down Jack’s chest and says, “There’s a party tonight. You coming?”

“Um,” Jack says. He wants to refuse. He really doesn’t feel like going out tonight, hence the plan to play video games all night. But Alex is looking at him like he already knows the answer, knows that he doesn’t even have to beg to get Jack to do what he wants. He’s smiling that stupid, one-sided smile that takes any feeling Jack ever had in his legs, fingers still playing with the collar of Jack’s shirt, occasionally brushing against his skin. “Yeah, sure.”

“Cool,” Alex whispers, and leans in again. His lips ghost over Jack’s, and then he pulls back and walks away with only a wink. 

Already, Jack’s heart is sinking to his stomach.

_______________

Rian’s phone rings again, and Jack can see Alex’s dumb contact picture of him dressed as a scarecrow on Halloween. It’s a ridiculous close-up and Alex is pulling a ridiculous face and Jack wants to take the phone and break it.

“Answer it,” He croaks.

Rian hesitates, but doesn’t ask if Jack’s sure. He keeps his free hand running through Jack’s hair while he talks. “Hey...Yeah, I’m with him...No, you can stay, we’re fine,”

Jack can hear the static mumbling of Alex’s voice on the other end of the line, and he closes his eyes against it, curling his hands into fists. His arms are heavy with exhaustion, but he wants nothing more than to break something or hit something or scream until he collapses. The rain pounding against the side of the van is loud, pressing down on his chest, and he presses himself further into Rian. Rian doesn’t miss a beat, just holds Jack a little tighter as he keeps up conversation with Alex.

“No, he hasn’t said...I really don’t think that’s-...Okay.” And he hangs up. There’s a tense silence as he puts his phone down. Jack holds his breath and waits for Rian to say something, to tell him what the call was about, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t  _ really  _ need to; Jack can kind of guess that it was about him, but some confirmation would be nice. It would show that Alex cares, even a little. 

“What happened?” Rian asks. And Jack’s going to answer, he is, but then Rian follows it up with, “He sounded worried.”

Jack scoffs at that, as much as he can with how tight his throat still is. The hand that was idly rubbing his back has stopped, so he shifts away from it, pressing his face back into Rian’s stomach. He knows Rian’s going to ask, and he wishes he wouldn’t because he doesn’t want to talk about it; he’s already cried enough tonight. He can still feel the dampness pooled under his eyes, drying into a tacky mess, and he can’t even imagine how blotchy his face is.

“Jack,” Rian starts. A whimper escapes from Jack’s throat, pathetic and broken, a great reflection of how he feels. “Bud, what happened? Please, talk to me.”

He tries to shake his head, but Rian pulls at his shoulders until he’s sitting up in front of him. Still, he keeps his head down, opting to stare at his hands instead of Rian’s concerned, pressing eyes. Saying it out loud will make it real and concrete, and it’ll sound embarrassing and dumb and he doesn’t want Rian’s pity. Alex has already twisted reality to fit in his hands so that Jack will be the pathetic one if he tells the truth.

“Nothing happened,” He whispers.

“Come on, don’t lie to me.”

It’s not like he wants to; he’s never lied to Rian. But, it’s either lying or sinking himself back into his feelings with no promise of emerging. Every time he thinks about it for more than a second, he feels like screaming. Rian would probably let him. 

He takes a deep breath, getting ready to speak, but has to press the heels of his palms against his eyes to hold back the tears that threaten to rush forward. A weak sob escapes him anyways. He breathes it back in and decides it’s better to keep his mouth shut, shaking his head and hoping Rian gets the message. 

He’s about to speak, probably convince Jack to tell him, but then there’s pounding on the back doors of the van before they burst open, Alex and Zack jumping in. Rian stands up to talk to them, but Jack can’t. His knees are too heavy and they’re going numb and his knees are stuck to the floor. The rain is much quieter now that Jack’s attuned to Alex’s voice, now that Alex is here to take up all of his senses. They lock eyes for a split second before Jack looks back at the floor.

“You okay, JB?” Zack asks. 

Jack nods as he chokes out, “Fine,” in a thick, wavering voice. He can feel Alex looking at him, the gaze like a weighted blanket over him. He thinks he might cry again, which is humiliating and makes his cheeks burn at the mere thought. Normally, he’d be alight at having Alex’s attention, but now it’s suffocating and judging, daring him to speak up. 

“Come on,” Alex says,  _ still  _ staring at Jack. “Let’s go, this party blows anyways.”

_______________

Jack hadn’t even wanted to come to this party. What he  _ had  _ wanted was to stay home and spend the night virtually blowing shit up while stuffing his body with so much pizza that grease started leaking from his pores. 

But Alex had asked and Jack was weak and now he’s standing in a corner wishing he was stronger.

The drink in his hand is warm and horribly unappealing even though it’s just beer. He’s been alone since almost the moment he got here; Alex had pressed a drink into his hand and left, and he hasn’t found Zack or Rian yet. Nobody’s talking to him, probably because he looks like he’s considering burning the house down, literally, and he’s become very big on people watching.

And by people watching he means Alex watching. Of course.

It’s fascinating, the way he treads through the sea of people, dancing with one person before moving on seamlessly to the next, having conversations with nothing but their eyes and bodies. They get close, always like they’re about to kiss, and they never do. Normally, Jack would be right there with him, finding partners and letting go.

Tonight, watching Alex seems more important. Even if it does pierce his heart a little, with a dull, tiny needle. 

He watches Alex enter the kitchen and walk right up to him, so close he can feel Alex’s breath hit his face a little. Keeping his composure is more difficult than it should be considering all he wants to do is melt into Alex and hold him and touch him and take him away from this house until it’s just the two of them. 

“Having fun?” Alex asks, taking a drink out of Jack’s cup.

“Loads,” Jack answers, and rolls his eyes. Just to show how much fun he’s having. 

Alex snorts a little and looks out at the people around them, and then looks back at Jack. His eyebrow is cocked and there’s a smirk playing at his lips and Jack wants to push him away. Being this close is painful. He holds his gaze as best he can, determined not to crumble under Alex’s attention anymore. He’s rebuilt himself too many times to have the strength to do it again.

“Do you want to go find somewhere quieter?” Alex asks, eyes dancing.

Jack should say no. 

“Sure.”

Alex takes him by the hand to lead him out of the kitchen, talking to people as they go, people who don’t even spare Jack and passing glance. They make their way up the stairs, and the first bedroom Alex finds is empty, so he shoves Jack in and locks the door.

It’s not like when Jack usually finds a quiet room with someone at a party. It’s not messy or heated or rushed, no sweaty hands slipping from their holds on waists or necks. 

It’s nothing.

They stand there and look at each other, not even out of breath. Alex sits on the edge of the bed; Jack watches him and waits for the attack, whatever it may be. Because, really, he doubts Alex actually just wanted to find a quiet place to get away from the party. When Alex is at a party, he immerses himself in the experience, and that doesn’t include sitting in a random bedroom to escape the energy. 

“So, you like me, right?” Alex asks.

  
  


_______________

Jack stays home all weekend, stuck in bed sniffling and coughing. Consequence of spending the majority of the previous night in a shitty van during a storm, he supposes. He watches movies and listens to music and plays video games and doesn’t enjoy any of it. His mom makes him bowl upon bowl of soup, but it doesn’t ease the tightness of his throat.

He’s not feeling better by Monday, which is the lie his parents believe because he  _ does  _ look miserable, so he stays in bed all day. 

Around midday, when he’s debating getting up to find something to eat, Alex is opening his bedroom door and walking in. Jack had heard the garage door open, but he had assumed it was one of his parents coming home earlier, so he’s entirely unprepared for the sight of Alex standing in the middle of his bedroom floor, the sunlight peeking through his curtains hitting his face and blinding him a little.

Alex doesn’t say anything, so Jack asks, “What are you doing here?”

If he were in a better physical condition, he’d like to think the question would’ve come out harsher, more accusatory. As it stands, his throat is still scratchy and his nose is clogged. And, anyways, he could never be harsh to Alex, as much as he wants to be.

“You weren’t at practice,” Alex says, looking around Jack’s room like he hasn’t spent nights in it before. “I wanted to see if you were okay.”

Jack considers telling the truth; his heart feels shredded where it beats in his chest, and he randomly starts crying throughout the day. Nothing is fun and he’s had nightmares all weekend. He could do it, he wants to, but it wouldn’t cut at Alex like he’d want it to. “I got sick.”

Alex nods and continues to look around, falsely fascinated by the ratty posters taped to Jack’s walls. It’s awkward. Jack feels awkward sitting under the covers of his bed while Alex just stands there, hands shoved halfway into his pockets. A scream sticks in Jack’s throat, but it’s a confession that Alex has already heard and does not care about. 

“Are you feeling better?” Alex asks. It sounds like a genuine question, but he still won’t look at Jack. The scream builds and tears at his throat, grates against it as he swallows it down.

“A little.”

Alex just nods again. Jack realizes that nothing satisfying is coming from the conversation, so he sighs and gets up, making his way to the kitchen. He doesn’t wait to see if Alex is going to follow him, because he knows he will. Despite it all, he knows Alex is still going to follow him. And yet, it’s not the same as when Jack follows him; there’s not the same level of vulnerability and heartache and shame that walks alongside him. Alex just follows him because he needs the presence of another person, would feel awkward standing in Jack’s room by himself not knowing what Jack is doing. 

The kitchen is silent, in an eerie way. Normally so full of life when Jack’s in it, especially with Alex, it feels a little haunted now that the only noise is Jack opening and closing things to get ingredients for his sandwich. And he feels like he’s the only one aware of the ghost. Or, if Alex is aware of it, he’s not frightened of it. 

Jack has just set out the bread for his sandwich when Alex asks, “Are you mad at me?”

He doesn’t stop what he’s doing, doesn’t even stutter, but his heart tenses and a small sweat breaks out on his forehead. The edges of his vision dim for a second, but then he’s fine. Well, he’s not  _ fine _ , but he’s fine.

He thinks the question is a bit pointless, considering Alex always knows what Jack’s feeling and thinking, probably even saw his fucking heart stop. Right now, he’s just trying to humiliate Jack a little more, draw out the pain and make him admit to it in hopes he breaks, this time for Alex to witness. No van or Rian to protect him.

“Why would I be mad at you?” 

“Way to not answer,” Alex says, bitchy and biting. Jack desperately fights against the urge to cringe. “Maybe because you ditched the party and spent the rest of the night in a shitty van. And have spent the past three days in your room.”

If he were any stronger, any less pathetic, “I’ve been sick,” would not come out so shaky. As it stands, Jack is a paper man and Alex is an unforgiving, angry fist crumpling him and tossing him carelessly to the floor. Even when he doesn’t mean to be.

But when he does.

“That’s not the point.”

Jack’s stopped making his sandwich, but he’s still facing away from Alex. The countertop is very interesting, you see. Lots of weird stains and pen marks from careless or rushed scribbling. A much better sight than Alex’s stupidly pretty hair or intense eyes or his dumb lips that Jack seems to know all too well and yet not at all.

Alex clears his throat.

“What am I meant to say?” Jack asks. Not angry, like they’re arguing, just broken, giving up, folding.

He can hear Alex roll his eyes. “Answer the fucking question.  _ Are you mad at me? _ ”

Well. What the fuck is Jack supposed to say? How much is he allowed to admit? Surely Alex doesn’t want to know that Jack’s having trouble eating and cries at random intervals during the day. He can’t listen to music because it’s all associated with Alex. He ripped a couple posters off his wall in a fit of rage, accompanied by tears and screaming and a hole in his wall. There are a million needles dipped in acid piercing his heart, all placed by Alex. It burns and it hurts and he’s angry and sad and empty. Is that what Alex wants to hear?

It’s not what Jack wants to say.

So he doesn’t say it. Or anything.

“It was one fucking night, Jack. Get over it.” His footsteps thunder away and the door slams closed. Jack puts the food away and goes back to bed.

_______________

Jack’s a little caught off guard by the question. Is Alex insecure about their friendship all of a sudden? “Yeah, of course. You’re my best friend dude.”

“No,” Alex rolls his eyes, playful, and there’s a smile playing at the corner of his lips. He leans back, resting on his hands placed behind him, and Jack uses all his strength to keep his eyes on Alex’s face. “Like, you’re attracted to me. Right?”

And the world tilts under Jack’s feet. His vision blurs and his heart drops to the pit of his stomach so forcefully it almost knocks him over. Instinct is telling him to run, remove himself from what is probably going to become a damaging situation, but his feet are stuck to the floor. He’s not even aware of them, they don’t even feel attached to his legs. Alarms are ringing and flashing in his head, blinding him and making it hard to think.

He can’t lie, because Alex clearly already knows. Or he would at least be able to tell that Jack was lying. It feels like a trap. “Um, yeah. Why?” 

Now Alex leans forward. His eyes glint dangerously, casting Jack further along in whatever spell he’s trying to cast. “Really?”

“What do you mean ‘really?’ Why would I lie?”

Alex gives his answer in the form of standing up and stepping closer to Jack, whose first instinct is to step back. But he’s on a tightrope and, no matter which way he steps, he’s going to topple off and hit the ground full speed; he can just feel it. The best option seems to be standing his ground, facing Alex head-on no matter how uncomfortable it makes him.

A finger comes up to trace down his chest and play with the strings of his hoodie, pressing pause on the breath he was taking in. “Wanna come with me?” Alex asks, coy, demanding, not really a question. He’s expecting Jack to cave, to just follow with no questions asked because Jack always follows with no questions asked.

But now his heart’s on the line and maybe he should be careful.

“Where?” He asks back, careful. Not careful enough, because he doesn’t move away from Alex which would definitely help him think more clearly. But the heat from Alex’s body is trapping him, the breath hitting his lips is addicting, the hand pressed to his chest is gripping. 

No matter how much Jack curses himself for being weak when faced with Alex, it doesn’t stop him from being weak when faced with Alex. Thinking with his heart has never worked, it’s proven to not work, Jack knows this. But Alex knows just how to play with it so it bends to his every whim, a kid who knows every secret to his favorite game. 

“To the car,” Alex whispers, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Don’t you trust me?”

Jack wants to say yes. He does trust him; they’ve been friends for so long now, they’ve shared so many secrets and experiences. Jack trusts Alex like he trusts nobody else. Just. Maybe not with this. Not with his heart and his feelings and maybe not with their friendship. 

“Come on,” Alex says, low and enticing, tugging at Jack’s hands until they’re out the door, first to the room and then to the whole house. They’re making their way to Alex’s car that’s parked down the street before Jack’s brain has even caught up and had the chance to register. 

He’d probably be more angry if he had a single clue what he would’ve said. Because, what he  _ should  _ say and what he  _ would  _ say are often different. It’s his downfall. 

Alex holds open the back door for Jack, gesturing for him to get in. Jack hesitates; he sees a future of complications and heartbreaks inside that car. And he knows he’s going to chase after it just for a taste of whatever Alex is serving. 

He climbs in and Alex follows, straddling his lap and connecting their lips. It’s rushed and messy and Jack hasn’t even gotten his bearings yet; his hands hover awkwardly in the air until Alex grabs them and places them on his hips. He’s somewhat registered the fact that he’s kissing Alex since he’s reciprocating, though it’s definitely not how he imagined their first kiss would go. 

Still, he chases Alex everytime he pulls back. Nothing’s stopping them, Alex isn’t  _ really  _ pulling back. So he squeezes Alex’s hips a little tighter and kisses him a little harder and draws a hum from the back of Alex’s throat. The car is so much hotter than it was when they first got in and Jack can feel sweat pooling along his hairline. 

Everytime he opens his eyes even slightly, all Jack sees is Alex, face flushed and lit up by passing cars. All he feels is Alex, all he can smell is Alex,  _ everything  _ is  _ Alex _ . He barely even remembers where they are, hardly registers that there are more people a few feet away from them. This moment in this car is for them only, for their hands on each other and their lips together. If the world ended right now, Jack would barely notice. He can’t imagine being concerned about anything except kissing Alex.

When Alex pulls back this time, Jack lets him. They’re both out of breath, panting heavily into each other’s space. Alex is smiling, eyes alight; Jack knows his own face is probably red and awestruck. His brain is fixated on where Alex’s hand is curled around his neck, playing with his hair, and the way Alex is looking at him. Everything feels like it’s on fire in the best way possible, and, for a second, Jack thinks it might end better than he was expecting.

Alex leans back in to kiss him lightly, a simple press of lips that has Jack melting into the seat. 

“Jack,” He whispers, hand coming around to cup Jack’s cheek. Jack leans forward, ready to hear whatever Alex wants to tell him. 

But Alex doesn’t say anything, so Jack takes the initiative to say, “Alex.”

Alex smiles again, eyes locked on Jack’s lips and Jack is so ready to pull him back in, to grab him by the shirt and kiss him again, tangle his hand in Alex’s hair and kiss him forever and-

And Alex’s phone starts ringing. 

He pulls back to answer, leaving Jack hanging. “Hello? Yeah, I was just getting some air. I’ll be back in a second.”

And then he puts his phone away and starts climbing off Jack’s lap. Which, “What? Who was it?”

“Zack,” Alex says, not even looking at Jack. He’s fixing his hair, straightening out his shirt, and then he’s going to open the door.

“What the fuck?” Jack says. His heart is racing and he’s not sure it’s from the adrenaline of finally kissing Alex. 

“What?” Alex asks sharply, finally turning to look at him. Jack can feel his face falling right along with his heart, no longer frustratingly confused. He knows what’s happening, knows the trap he deliberately fell into. 

He’s asking for it when he says, “I thought,” and then leaves it at that.

Alex’s smirk is cold and cruel. “Thought what? We’d have one night of passion and wake up together tomorrow morning? Spend the night together and fall in love or some other bullshit? You’re nothing but a fucking mouth to me.”

He slams the door as he leaves, silencing the shattering of Jack’s heart. 

Jack feels stuck to the seat, whole body going numb with the sudden emptiness inside him, inside the car that was so occupied and full a minute ago. And it’s his own fault for falling for it. He should’ve known better than to believe Alex wanted the same things he wanted or that the sly glances and closeness from the past few weeks were anything more than a way to work Jack up. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew better.

But he just wanted Alex so badly. He still does, even though he’s just left Jack to freeze in a car. All he’s thinking about is what it was like to kiss Alex.

_ You’re nothing but a fucking mouth to me. _

Jack gasps, throat closing up on him, and trips out of the car without bothering to lock it. He fucking hopes someone steals it or trashes it. 

The sky cracks open and starts spitting rain over him, easily masking his tears and clouding his vision as he stumbles his way to Rian’s van. 

_______________

Band practice is tense for the next few weeks, when Jack actually shows up. There’s a lot less joking around between him and Alex, and whenever Jack tries to joke with someone else, Alex scoffs and rolls his eyes. Zack and Rian notice, shoot Alex looks, but they’re not going to say anything. They don’t know what to say because they don’t know what’s going on. 

Rian tries to prod when Jack ditches practice with various excuses, but he never says much. Shrugs it off, claims he doesn’t know what’s up with Alex. 

When Jack does show up, Alex is the first to comment on it and sarcastically congratulate him on his commitment to the band. 

Eventually, Jack stops making excuses. And then stops showing up altogether. 

He can’t even be panicked about his place in the band or what he’ll do without it; it’s nowhere near the front of his mind. The print of his side in his mattress is telling enough of what he’s concerned with: spending days escaping into dreams where things are better and nothing hurts, and wasting nights walking around the neighborhood when nobody else is awake to see him. That’s his routine now, accompanied by the hollowness in his chest and the dragging of his feet. 

When he’s reminded of his and Alex’s friendship, by music or his parents or a picture in his room, he looks at it as if he’d never lived that life. He can’t remember what it felt like to be around Alex and not have it hurt in some way or another, and he knows they could never go back to that. That omniscient friendship full of love and the unanimous agreement to what they were.

Now that there’s no clear line of who broke the agreement, there’s no room for forgiveness. Because Jack loved too much, but Alex kissed him. But he kissed back. But, but, but. Who does he blame first when they’re both at fault?

Jack’s almost forgotten he still has Alex’s number.

He’s on his nightly endeavor around the block when his phone buzzes in his pocket. He struggles to pull it out considering his fingers are almost frozen straight, but it nearly slips from his grasp when he sees the notification.

**_alex_ ** _ : meet me at the playground? _

His hands are too cold to type out a reply, but he knows without a doubt that Alex is already there and that Alex knows the playground is only a five minute walk from Jack’s house. It’s cruel, asking Jack out to a place associated with so many good memories: sitting behind the rock wall when they ditched school, hanging out on the swings underneath the moon while they talked the way they never could in the light of day, reliving their youth while anticipating their future together.

But cruel seems to be the theme for the month for Alex, and self-hatred is apparently Jack’s.

He makes it there in a little over five minutes, greeted with the sight of Alex leaning against a slide and staring out at the street. It’s a ridiculous sight, Alex looks so fucking ridiculous trying to stand so cooly against a bright green contraption made for children, and Jack is so foolishly fond of it. 

Still, he approaches with hesitation. He knows when Alex registers his footsteps and sees his shadow out of the corner of his eyes because his eyes flick to the ground in front of him. Jack wants to scream and demand that Alex look him in the eye, the least he could do after it all.

He doesn’t know what he’s expecting to happen, other than anything except an apology. But he certainly is not expecting Alex to ask, “What’s your deal?”

That stops Jack dead in his tracks, still about a foot away from Alex. Quickly enough to make his head spin, all the emptiness he’s felt since the party is filled with everything he should’ve been feeling since the beginning. “What’s  _ my  _ deal? What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“Well, you just fucking stopped showing up to rehearsals, and you haven’t talked to me in like a month. Did you get your period or something?” Alex is finally looking at him now, but his eyebrows are drawn together, nothing cocky or judgy in the expression. 

Either luckily or unluckily, Jack is only registering what he’s saying. A moment of clarity would give him pause and probably save them both from falling, but Alex pushed him off the cliff and Jack will be damned if he doesn’t pull Alex right along with him. “Fuck you. You’ve been treating me like shit, and it’s not like you’ve bothered reaching out either.”

“Why would I bother?” Alex asks, stepping away from the slide, slightly closer to Jack. “ _ You’re _ the one who’s been a whiny bitch about this whole thing.”

“What whole thing?” Jack takes a much larger step closer. Alex tenses and his one foot falls behind him, but he otherwise stays put. “What exactly have I been whining about?”

There’s a gross, addicting satisfaction leaking into his gut at how hard his voice finally sounds and at the way Alex is finally the one eyeing him warily. The sight of Alex swallowing roughly with no quick comeback floods his veins; the tense air of silence while he waits for Alex’s response fills his lungs. 

“You spent the night to crying to Rian,” Alex finally says. It’s shaky and his chest stutters with his next breath. It’s thrilling in the worst way possible.

“Maybe because  _ you _ ,” Jack shoves at Alex’s chest. “Led me on for the whole night, dragged me to a car to fuck with me, and then  _ left _ .”

There’s a new fire in Alex’s eyes, burning through Jack. The cold air barely reaches him anymore, his frustration thawing his hands and reviving his heart. It races when Alex says, “I told you it wasn’t anything special-”

“No,” Jack cuts him off. Tears build behind his eyes as he speaks. “You told me that  _ after  _ you kissed me. You led me on, knowing how I felt about you, and then you kissed me. And then  _ you told me I was nothing but a fucking mouth to you and left!”  _ He keeps shoving at Alex’s chest as the tears pour over his cheeks, pushing him back with every step he takes forward.

Alex doesn’t push back, doesn’t even try. He takes it with his arms wide open like he’s inviting him. “Not my fault you’re so pathetic and obvious. It’s embarrassing how fucking easy you were for it.”

“ _ Fuck you! _ ” Jack pushes him again, and his foot catches on the edge of the playground equipment and sends him sprawling to the ground. 

He can hear the breath that punches out of Alex’s chest, knocked from him, and he finally hesitates. He watches as Alex struggles to catch his breath and wipes at his cheeks with his sleeves. Jack hadn’t even noticed the dampness shining there through his own watery vision. 

When Alex looks up at him, it’s pained and broken. Through his heaving breaths, he still manages to ask, “Is that it? That’s everything you’ve got?”

“What’s your fucking deal?” Jack asks. He’s exhausted now, all the energy draining from him just as quickly as it filled him. He just wants to be back home in bed now, tired of being around Alex and getting nowhere.

Alex stands, steadily regaining his footing. “Come on. Is that it?” He asks again, shoving lightly at Jack’s chest. When he doesn’t answer, he says, “We’ve started looking for new guitarists, since you’re done showing up. It won’t be hard to find someone better, you know. You know you’re mediocre at best.” Jack closes his eyes against Alex’s words, letting the tears stream down his cheeks. “I don’t know why you’re so fucking upset. You know it’s true. And you should’ve known that I’d never want someone like you. You’re just like every other faceless person I’ve gotten with.”

His last wind shoots through him and sends his fist flying into Alex’s nose. Alex chokes on a gasp as he stumbles back again, hands flying to cover the blood already streaming down his face. The pain in Jack’s hand is only a dull ache compared to the beating his heart just took.

Alex isn’t looking at him, but he still feels the need to announce his departure. “Fuck you.”

His bed is cold when he finally crawls back into it, and the sun is just starting to stream through his curtains. As desperately as he wants sleep to take him, he spends most of the day staring at his wall, replaying the night over and over.

He feels worse and worse with every press of rewind. 

_______________

It’s not long after that fight that everyone starts to get worried; Jack’s parents worry about how much time he’s spending alone when they’re so used to him always being out of the house. Rian texts and calls at all hours, asking if Jack will at least just talk to him, nobody else around, just so he knows he’s okay. 

If only Jack were as worried about himself as everyone else was, then maybe he’d be making some progress or some effort to change. 

But he can’t stop feeling so empty. When he’s not empty, he’s angry. And the anger turns to tears which leads to him crying on the bathroom floor after he’s stepped out of a shower, or crying on his living room couch with the tv playing softly in the background. 

He feels pathetic and embarrassing, and he dreads to think of what anyone would see if they saw him like this. And yet, the thought’s not enough to push him to get help or to find something else to occupy his time. His mind’s too foggy, too clouded with bleak skies and soft thunderstorms, to be concerned about much of anything. 

Weekly walks around the neighborhood are the only thing that clear away the storms, if only for a moment. It’s gotta be something in the air or in the way little kids run around outside while their parents watch that has Jack smiling just a little, that has him waving to neighbors he’s never seen, much less talked to. Or maybe it’s just a distraction and a way to convince himself that at least things are okay for some people. 

He doesn’t register the footsteps slapping behind him, assuming it’s some children about to zip past him. 

And then a hand lands on his shoulder and a familiar voice says, “Wait, Jack.”

He almost trips with how suddenly he stops, his heart stuttering in his chest and blocking his breaths. Turning around seems impossible with the way Alex’s hand is still burning into his skin through his shirt, branding him and holding him in place. He shoves his own hands into his pockets to mask their shaking. 

“Jack,” Alex says again. Soft. Pleading. 

“What?” He’s not angry, but that’s how it comes out. He wishes he were angry; that would make it easier to put up a defense, keep him safe. Instead, he’s confused and a little scared; his routine escape has been compromised by the one person he’s been trying to avoid in every sense. 

“Please,” Alex pleads again. “I need to talk to you.”

Jack turns to him, finally. He’s more satisfied than he’d like to admit about the yellow-green bruising around Alex’s nose, and the way it lays slightly crooked now. He’s got matching bruises dotting his knuckles, but probably nowhere near as much physical pain otherwise. “You haven’t said enough already?” 

“I need to explain.”

Jack hesitates. Alex’s face seems nothing but genuine, but it seemed genuine when he kissed him as well. Though, there’s not much more Alex could do to him at this point. “I’ll punch you again if I have to.” 

Alex exhales a laugh, his breath puffing out in a cloud in front of him. “Fine.”

They’re back at the park, crouched on the curb by the street that no cars ever seem to drive on. Some kids riding bikes give them strange looks; Alex gives them the finger and Jack tries to hold in a laugh. 

His leg bounces while he waits for Alex to speak. He’s not saying anything until Alex does, figuring that’s as fair as they can get. 

“Can you look at me?” Alex asks. The breeze carries his voice away. “I need you to know I’m serious.”

Jack turns to him because, for once, he would also like to know that Alex is serious. He needs a moment of certainty. The cold has bitten at Alex’s face, turned his cheeks and the tip of his nose red and Jack considers turning back around, unsure if he can really handle whatever is about to happen.

Alex’s hair whips around him, and Jack’s fingers twitch. He looks at Jack, unwavering, and says, “I was an asshole.”

“Yeah.” 

Alex shifts, finally the uncomfortable one. Or maybe he was always uncomfortable, and this is just that buildup showing itself. Nevertheless, he holds Jack’s gaze. “You didn’t deserve that. You’re my best friend and-”

“Alex,” Jack says. “Now is really not the time for a fucking monologue. Either tell me why I’m here or I’m leaving.” 

Alex nods, face crumpling a little, and takes in a breath. Jack would feel bad, but he’s spent the past month feeling bad. “I’m sorry.” Jack raises an eyebrow at him. “Right. Yeah, I know that’s the least of what you’re expecting from me, but I am sorry. I’m sorry for hurting you over and over.”

“It’d be easier to forgive you if I knew why you did it.” He’s not sure that’s true even if he says it, but he’s still above begging for answers. He knows this is a surefire way to keep Alex going. 

“I love you,” Alex says. He’s really looking at Jack now, like he hasn’t seen his face in ages or is seeing it for the first time or  _ whatever _ . His eyes on Jack are heavy and they weigh him down.

“You’re not expecting me to believe that.”

“No,” Alex rushes to say. His hand reaches out, seemingly without thinking, to rest over Jack’s, but Jack pulls away just as Alex’s fingertips graze his skin. It still lights his nerves up. Alex’s face falls, but he pulls back and nods to himself. “I’m not expecting anything of you. But it’s the truth. I love you.”

Behind the wall blocking all his feelings, Jack can feel the anger creeping up on him, a product of all the shame and humiliation and confusion and fear he’s been harboring. “That’s still not a fucking explanation for what you did.”

“I  _ know _ .” Alex’s voice breaks. There are tears shining clearly in his eyes, and maybe Jack’s heart twists a little at that. “I know, but it’s part of it. I just. I love you, and it scared me. And I knew you liked me, and that scared me even more.”

Alex pauses; Jack wonders if this is as hard for him to admit as it is for Jack to hear. Every word rips a minuscule tear in his heart, reopening old wounds and creating fresh ones as well, but he needs to hear Alex out. He deserves an explanation. 

“So, I figured,” Alex starts up again, and he’s still looking at Jack and Jack is finding it harder and harder to not look away. “If I pushed you away and hurt you from the start, you wouldn’t get the chance to hurt me when it all inevitably crashed and burned.”

“When what crashed and burned?”

“Us,” Alex gestures between them, around them, like it’s so obvious what he’s talking about. “Before we did something dumb and it all fell apart.”

“You did something dumb anyways,” Jack grits out. He feels like the only one with common sense out of the two of them, which is not how it’s supposed to be. 

Alex sighs, “I know, but-”

“No, let me get this straight.” Alex’s eyes widen, clearly not having expected Jack to interrupt him, or at least to sound so harsh while he did it. He tucks some hair behind his ear, and then leaves his hand there to twist it around his finger; Jack wants to smack his hand away, but he doesn’t. “You were an absolute dick to me because you weren’t even willing to give us a chance?”

“We would never work. With the band and everything. Something would go wrong.” Alex sounds desperate, leaning forward to make his point heard. 

Jack’s not having it. He’s done having it, actually. So fucking done. “How do you know?” Alex opens his mouth. Jack stops him. “Contrary to what you think, you don’t know everything, Alex. And you fucking hurt us both before we even got the chance to do anything.”

Alex is silent. He finally breaks away to look at the street below him, kicking at some loose gravel and pulling at the grass under them. There’s more on the tip of his tongue, Jack can practically see it resting there, but he also knows Alex needs time to roll it over in his head some more. He watches while he waits, finally looks at Alex in the light of the day for the first time in what feels like forever. His eyes are sunken in a little, shaded by purple hues. His hair is a little longer and looks like it hasn’t been brushed in days. And then there’s the bruise decorating his nose; the satisfaction drips out of Jack’s stomach, replaced by remorse the more he looks at it.

“I just didn’t wanna get hurt,” Alex whispers.

“How did that work out for you?”

Alex snorts, rueful. “It didn’t” 

Jack follows Alex’s eyes out in front of them where the sun is just starting to dip beneath the street. As it leaves, it graces the sky with pinks and oranges, setting the world ahead of them on fire. And Jack feels more than content to sit here and catch fire with it. 

“I’m so fucking sorry,” Alex says again. “You’re never supposed to hurt the people you love, and I did it so many times.”

Jack considers, considers how over all this he is, how much he just wants Alex back. Wants his life back. “You love me? Like, really love me?”

Alex looks at him. His arms are folded in front of him and he looks so small and Jack thinks he can already see everything Alex’s feeling radiating off him, wrapping him up and holding him together. “I do. I really love you.” He faces away again, afraid of Jack’s reaction.

“You haven’t fixed everything,” Jack says, turning to look at Alex. Hearing the tone of his voice, Alex turns back to him as well, eager and hopeful. It would be so easy to crush that, to give Alex exactly what he gave Jack. But he’s so past that now, tired of that game. “You’ve barely even started.

Alex nods. “I know.”

“But I like hearing you say you love me,” Jack says. Alex smiles and his shoulders drop, and that’s how Jack knows. He sees the way that Alex has been holding himself so tightly. And he knows what Alex just went through to admit that he was wrong, and he knows that Alex wants Jack to stay angry with him, thinks he deserves it. But, frankly, Jack’s done being angry and upset and numb. He wants to feel, and he especially wants to feel everything Alex has deprived him of. “Besides, if you break my heart again, I’ll just break your nose again.”

A tear slides down Alex’s cheek as he laughs, watery and broken. He takes Jack’s hand, and Jack lets him, and they turn to watch the world burn. 

**Author's Note:**

> alright alright alright hope u enjoyed, come find me on [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/escapesos) if u feel so inclined. comments and kudos are always appreciated.
> 
> title taken from "jasey rae" by all time low


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